


it begins and ends with you

by blarkeontheark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ABOUT CLARKE, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Poetry, anywAYYYY, bellamy realizing he's falling in love with clarke while writing poetry about her, bellamy writing poetry, it's short but i wrote it because what else do i have to do with my life, just a bit, raven and octavia shipping it like true fangirls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:47:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarkeontheark/pseuds/blarkeontheark
Summary: Bellamy starts out writing a poem about his best friend for a poetry class, but he didn't expect it to turn out quite like this. Now he's desperate to keep Raven, and everyone she's told about the assignment, from reading his true feelings about Clarke.





	it begins and ends with you

“Hey, dude.”

“Do you ever knock?” Bellamy mumbled.

“Nope.” Raven wound her way to the mini-fridge of his dorm room, rooting through it and pulling out a bottle of iced tea. “What are you doing? The TV’s not on, there’s no weird music playing—who are you and where did you put Bellamy Blake?”

“First of all, the Beatles are not weird, so you can take that attitude all the way back downstairs,” Bellamy huffed. “And secondly, I’ve got an assignment due for poetry tomorrow. I have to write a poem about something I know.”

“Something you know?” Raven’s delicate brows drew together as she opened the lid. “The fuck does that mean?”

“Or like, a person. A person you know really well. And he wants to test out how well we can rhyme, so we get extra credit for that.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “That’s easy. You should be done in five minutes.”

“I have no idea what to write about,” Bellamy blurted. In truth, he’d been about thirty seconds away from seeking out one of his friends for help, but Raven had saved him the trouble.

“Hmmm.” Raven crossed the room. “Okay. Write down a word.”

“Huh?” Bellamy’s mind went blank.

“Think of a person, and write their name down. Any person.”

Bellamy fumbled for a name, any name. Before he could stop it, his pen moved across the paper, tracing six letters.

CLARKE.

Raven suppressed a smile. “Clarke, huh?”

“It was just the first name I thought of,” Bellamy defended. “You know, alphabetically. I wasn’t gonna think of, like, Octavia first.”

“Right. Because it’s not like she’s your sister, and Clarke’s just your friend.” Raven took a swig of her tea. “But okay. You know Clarke well, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Bellamy said dully.

“Ugh. You’re no fun to work with.” Raven strode for the door. “If you’re not done in ten minutes, I’m sending up Monty to help you.”

Bellamy stared at the single word on the sheet of paper.

Clarke.

What rhymed with Clarke?

Clarke, Clarke, you live on the Ark.

Bellamy snorted. He didn’t think Clarke would appreciate her name being paired with their crappy, ugly dorm.

Clarke, Clarke, you are a…spark.

Clarke, Clarke, you light up the dark.

“This is ridiculous,” Bellamy muttered.

How the fuck had Raven somehow managed to wrangle him into writing a poem about Clarke?

Lunging for his phone, he typed in a message. 

[Bellamy, 10:42 PM: I can’t write about Clarke. This is insane.]

To her credit, Raven replied instantly.

[Raven, 10:42 PM: Bell. You realize this is the group chat.]

Mind going blank with panic, Bellamy checked the contacts in the chat. Miller, Jasper, Monty, Octavia, Raven, Harper…not Clarke.

[Bellamy, 10:44 PM: Not the one with Clarke. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I need something else to write about.]

Apparently, Raven had explained to the crew downstairs what Bellamy’s crisis was, because Harper responded a moment later.

[Harper, 10:45 PM: try not rhyming the name with shit. say like, idk, ‘harper is a goddess and i think shes the hottest.’]

[Bellamy, 10:45 PM: Harper, I’m not writing it about you.]

[Harper, 10:45 PM: well u said u werent writing it abt clarke.]

[Miller, 10:45 PM: What is this bullshit? Is Bellamy writing a love poem about Clarke?]

[Bellamy, 10:46 PM: NO. NO. BELLAMY IS NOT.]

[Raven, 10:46 PM: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )]

[Bellamy, 10:46 PM: Raven, first of all, where do I find that emoji, and secondly, no.]

Switching his phone off, he tried to ignore the influx of texts and instead tried to focus on Clarke. 

Her eyes were the first thing that struck him. They were very...blue. Hey, that was a place to start. 

Crossing out the word Clarke, he instead flipped the page over and tried again. 

your eyes are the color of sapphires against the sky  
the shape of your lips when you press them into a smile  
if i didn't say you were beautiful, that would be a lie  
i hope you don't mind if i stay a while 

Bellamy squinted at the four lines he'd written. He'd written them on a whim, not considering what anyone else would say if they saw them. But anyone could see what he'd been trying to deny to himself for weeks. 

He was definitely falling in love with his best friend. 

Shaking off the horror of Raven coming upstairs, he flipped over his phone—and encountered a fresh new horror. 

[Clarke, 10:58 PM: I hear you're writing about me for poetry class. Make sure you add my tendency to steal all your food and deny it, hmm?]

Bellamy gaped, unable to articulate a reply. 

[Bellamy, 11:04 PM: Not sure what to write, honestly. Your name was just the first that popped into my head.]

[Clarke, 11:05 PM: Happy to help if you need it. You could always say that I am a lovely, brilliant, charismatic human being. And that we constantly fight, of course, because I'm a stubborn ass sometimes.]

[Bellamy, 11:05 PM: Stubborn, maybe. Never an ass.]

She was obviously joking, but Bellamy picked up his pen and jotted down another few lines. 

you gave me hell for every word i said that night  
your lovely cheeks colored rose with rage  
looking back, if it weren't for that fight  
our friendship would not have reached this age

Okay, so it wasn't Shakespeare, but Bellamy never paid much attention to poetry anyway. 

[Octavia, 11:09 PM: how's the clarke poem going? mushy declarations of love? you're obligated to share, big brother.]

[Bellamy, 11:09 PM: Damn Raven. I'm almost done, and before you ask, you don't get to read it.]

[Octavia, 11:10 PM: god bell, you're such a spoilsport. i'm your sister.]

[Bellamy, 11:10 PM: Wow, really? Gosh, I didn't know! Thanks for telling me, O.]

[Octavia, 11:10 PM: shut up, bell. anyway, let me read. pleeeeease?]

[Bellamy, 11:11 PM: Nada.]

[Octavia, 11:11 PM: it's because you're in love with her.]

Bellamy froze. 

Fuck. Was he really that obvious?

[Octavia, 11:13 PM: ha. you're not exactly subtle, bell.]

[Bellamy, 11:13 PM: O, listen. This is ridiculous.]

[Octavia, 11:14 PM: mmmmmm. whatever you say. go finish your love poem, bellamy.]

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, uncapping his pen again. 

you have the soul of a strong-willed child  
and all the tendencies of an angry dove  
today i let my pen run wild  
and realized that i fell in love  
and no matter who you are or what you do  
it's the same; it begins and ends with you

[Clarke, 11:20 PM: Boo. You won't let O read your poem? You at least need to let me read it.]

[Clarke, 11:22 PM: I'm coming upstairs.]

That had been three minutes ago. It usually took Clarke about three and a half to get upstairs, which meant—

The door burst open and a familiar breathless figure entered the room, hair floating in a golden halo around her head. "Let's see!"

"I...Clarke..."

And he tried to move the poem out of the way but she grabbed it, her eyes darting across the paper, quickly at first and then slower and slower. 

Her jaw dropped slightly, and Bellamy covered his eyes, bracing himself for the rejection, the uncomfortable silence. 

"Fuck," he mumbled.

"Bellamy."

He didn't open his eyes. "Clarke, I'm so sorry. I just...I started writing, and I..."

"Bell, look at me."

Bell. Not Bellamy, Bell. 

He opened his eyes slightly to find Clarke smiling. Widely. It threw off his whole perspective of the situation 

"This is beautiful," she whispered. "Unbelievable."

"I thought..."

"Bellamy, are you blind?" Clarke laughed, then leaned forward to kiss him. 

"Am I blind?"

"You really thought I didn't feel that way about you?"

Shaking off his shock, he pressed his lips to hers again, tangling his fingers in her soft blonde hair. 

They were interrupted by a screech from the doorway. Bellamy broke away to find Octavia, whooping in the doorway, followed by Raven, Harper and Miller. 

"Pay up," Harper whispered to Miller, who reluctantly handed her a twenty. 

"I can't believe this," Bellamy sputtered. "Clarke, did you know about this?"

"No." Clarke glared at Octavia, who had the decency to look slightly abashed. 

"We've been betting for years," Raven said unapologetically. "Ever since that one fight at Monroe's."

"We don't talk about that," Clarke and Bellamy said in unison. Bellamy winced, thinking of the line in his poem referencing it, and Clarke shot him a half-smile.

"They're already acting couple-y, everyone can go home now," Octavia announced. "Seriously, can we leave before this gets gross?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. 

"Get out," Bellamy demanded. "Out."

"This is my room, too," Miller pointed out. 

"OUT."

"You can crash in our room tonight," Raven stage-whispered. "I doubt Clarke will mind."

Bellamy stood up and slammed the door, causing the group outside to howl with laughter as they headed down the hall to the stairs. 

"They're such idiots," Clarke muttered. 

"Where were we?" Bellamy asked. "Something about how I'm blind?"

"Apparently not that blind, if you've noticed how lovely my cheeks are when they're...colored rose with rage," Clarke read. "Bellamy, you really have a knack for this poetry thing."

Bellamy quirked a grin. "I have a knack for noticing how lovely you are."

They sat up late into the night, editing Bellamy's poem together, and at the end, when Clarke was dozing with her head on his shoulder and he was too tired to move, he moved her hair out of her face and kissed her on the forehead, leaning his head against hers and drifting into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> (hopefully that made up for the sad ending of the letters to clarke fic? although i did start writing a sequel and i'll probably finish it by the end of next week)  
> anyway again my tumblr is natblid-a


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